Something Beautiful
by Immogene Lee
Summary: Brittany knows that she and Santana are "just friends". But what if she doesn't want to be just a friend anymore? And Santana can get any guy she wants... and does! But could it be to hide that she doesn't really want a guy at all? Brittana fic rated M.
1. Chapter 1

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_A "Brittana" fic (Brittany/Santana)_

_Chapter One. _

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_Disclaimer:Hallo thar! I am most definitely NOT Ryan Murphy or anyone else that may own Glee. I am simply just a devoted Gleek and undying fan of Santana and Brittany._

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_A/N: Yup, it's a little dark. But most of whatever I write is. Guess it's just my brain._

_Anyways, I'm trying this game again. My first fic, "Words Can't Comprehend" met with a sudden and awful death that I mourn daily due to some awful events, so I am going to try and do this one better than the first. As it deserves. This is just the first chapter, obviously, and I'll probably hold off on writing the second one if I don't get too much of a response. Not that I'm 'pressuring' anyone who's reading this into a review, but I'm on the verge of where I'm taking this, so I'd like to wait for some response, seeing where people would like to see it go. Does that make sense?_

_Just another note, I have no Beta, so it's just me and my bad self over here. That might make for a few awkward sentences or some spelling mistakes. If there are any, please please PLEASE tell me about them so I can fix them, 'kay? I'm not too proud to take that criticism. And if you'd like to say anything else, obviously, don't hesitate!_

_Anyways, enough of my rambling! Here we go!_

_PLEASE REVIEW! And enjoy!_

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Everything about a girl is intoxicating. Her skin is softer, her smell is sweeter, her voice is more melodic. Her curves are smooth and her laugh is bright. Even her touch is inherently soothing, nurturing. All that she stands for is welcoming and sweet. It is only natural that men find them tantalizing and lust after them, love them. But how is it at all fair that only men are aloud to indulge in their graces? Why must girls yearn for the masculine, the rough? Is it so bad for a girl to just want something soft and sweet? Something beautiful?

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Her lips were soft, pressing against the most ticklish spots, caressing the line of her neck and down along her collarbone. Her fingers were long and they touched all the right places, skimming over the bare flesh of Brittany's abdomen, goose bumps rising all along her skin. A throaty chuckle left the blonde's lips as the fingertips pressed more eagerly into her skin, lowering past the fabric clinging to her hips. Brittany's own fingers knotted into the dark, soft hair, rippled across the bronze shoulders that hovered over her. As the fingers moved lower, Brittany breathed out shakily, her body tensing against the touch. "Santana…" The name fell from her lips, barely more than a whisper, and Santana lifted her head from the crook of her neck, looking down at her. Her full lips curved into a smirk and her dark eyes bore into Brittany's.

"Brittany." She said, her voice husky and lustful, the very sound of it causing Brittany to close her eyes, urging her hips forward, against her hand. But when she opened her eyes again, everything was hazier, the face hovering over her unclear. "Brittany." Santana called again, her voice less luring than before. Again, she called the blonde's name, her voice warbling and mutating into one not belonging to they think, lithe figure that quickly seemed to be fading. Again, Brittany closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus. When she opened them, she saw not her friend and co-Cheerio, but her mother, hovering over her and smiling brightly.

"Brittany? OH! You're awake! Good! It's time for you to get ready for school!" Her mother's voice was cheery and sickeningly sweet. Sighing, she rolled over, pulling her quilt over her head and clamping her eyes shut tightly. But instead of seeing Santana's face, like she wanted, it was only dark. "Come down when you're ready, Bug!" Her mother's footsteps receded down the steps and begrudgingly, Brittany sat up. She hated Mondays.

Shower, shave, moisturize, apply make up, style hair, get dressed. It was a familiar schedule. Even a kindergartener could do it. Which was precisely why Brittany succeeded at it so well. As she skipped down the stairs, two at a time, her pony tail bouncing over her shoulder, Brittany smiled for no apparent reason. She could smell waffles in the kitchen, and she inhaled deeply, wallowing in the warm, vanilla-y smell. "Mmm, waffles. My favorite." She commented dreamily as she walked through the kitchen, picking up the cup she knew had her morning shake and the brown bag that had another shake for lunch and a package of zebra cakes that she would give to Becky, because her parents said she couldn't have sugar. She pressed her lips to her father's temple wordlessly as she passed him on her way towards the door. "Learn lots, make smart choices." He called after her, not looking up from the paper in his hands.

At the door, Brittany's mother held her bag out to her daughter, who quickly kissed her on the cheek, taking the bag and slinging it over her shoulder and skipping down the steps to her porch and jogging down the driveway to where Santana sat in her car, waiting. "Morning!" She chimed as she slipped into the seat beside her, sucking on the straw of her shake and beaming. A groan passed the brunette's lips as she rolled her eyes, driving off toward school.

"You are way too bright and shiny in the morning."

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Being a Cheerio meant a lot of things. It meant boys wanted you. It meant girls wanted to be you. It meant that, even though waffles smelled warm, sweet and vanilla-y, you had to have a morning protein shake (Brittany liked chocolate or strawberry days). It meant that you didn't have to worry about what you wore to school, because every day, you wore your uniform.

But most importantly? It meant you were the leaders of the school.

As Brittany walked down the hall, following closely behind Santana, people parted ways for her, cowered against their lockers, looked down at the ground to avoid looking her in the eye. Santana told her in the beginning that it was because they feared her. She didn't believe it now, because she was about as frightening as a small puppy (the little bitty ones that fit in cups), but she knew now that it was true. If someone got in her way, they feared being pushed down by Santana, or thrown into a locker by some jock. If a boy asked her out, they feared the mostly inevitable rejection. And when a teacher failed her on an assignment, they feared the wrath of Sue Sylvester raining down on them like fire. She was untouchable. And she liked it.

Today was just like any other day as she walked down the hall, the seas of people parting like they did every day. The familiar vacant smile twisted her lips, flashing the two perfect rows of unnaturally white teeth, and her pony tail bounced behind her. It was almost as if they were walking in slow motion, like they do in movies when important people entered the room. But as she looked down the hall, Brittany caught sight of someone who made her smile quickly fade, and everything sped up to normal pace.

Noah Puckerman.

"I thought he was in Juvie. Didn't he steal an ATV or something?" She tried hard not to let her disappointment seep into her tone as she leaned toward Santana, but Brittany only sounded confused. Santana was rummaging through her locker and cast only a cursory glance toward Puck, remaining beyond cool.

"ATM, and he was let out early. Not that I care." Her tone was completely unaffected, but Brittany knew better. She cared. So did the wide-eyed blonde. As she leaned against the beige locker beside Santana's, she watched Noah, watching as the nightly "study sessions" with her best friend seemed to dissipate before her eyes. Puck was back. No more pretending Santana was a lizard and Brittany was the warm rock.

She pouted slightly, looking down at her white shoes and hugging her books to her chest. When Puck passed them, he said something to Santana, and she rolled her eyes, shooting some snide comment back. To outsiders, it looked like they couldn't stand each other. Hated each other even. But Brittany knew that it was just how they were, that it was just a matter of time until they were all over each other. Her eyes remained fixed to the ground for a while longer, lost in thought. Which was rare for Brittany.

"Brittany?"

Looking up, she saw Santana before her, and suddenly, Brittany's dream flooded back to her, turning her cheeks pink. "Hey! We should go study at my house tonight. Mom's making meatloaf." Brittany smiled hopefully. They fell into step, side by side, heading towards class. It wasn't just the making out and such that she liked about Santana. It was the way she laughed. And how her hair smelled like she just came out of the shower when it was out of it's pony tail. And how she was ticklish above her belly button and behind her ears. The little things from how she chewed her lower lip when she was thinking to how she bobbed her head to the beat in the car. A smile crept across her lips, like it always did, as she thought of all these things.

"Yeah, we'll see. I'll have to see what Puck is doing first." Brittany's face fell. It wasn't like she wanted Santana to be in love with her. Not really, anyways. She just wished she wasn't always second to Puck. He wasn't even that hot.

"You okay, Britt?"

Brittany smiled widely at Santana, nodding. "So, I was watching High School Musical last night… I think Zac Efron is secretly a girl…" Santana laughed and rolled her eyes, the sound bringing a genuine smile to Brittany's lips again, and they walked down the hall. Discreetly, the blonde dropped her hand beside hers, her smile widening when her pinky looped about her own.

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End of chapter one.

_I love this pairing *sigh* _

_Anyways… That's the first one… Its not too bad, right? At least I hope._

_And it's a bit short, but hopefully I'll be able to remedy that later._

_Hope it's tolerable! If not enjoyable! _

_Like I said before, reviews are appreciated, positive or negative. _

_Until next time ...! _


	2. Chapter 2

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_A Brittana fic (Brittany/Santana)_

_Chapter Two. _

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_Disclaimer :I am completely Glee-less. I own nothing, much to my dismay._

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_A/N: Okay, I just want to say WOW! You guys are fantastic! I am sometimes shocked that what I write gets read. To all of you who reviewed, favorited and alerted, thank you! I dedicate this next chapter to you guys!_

_I feel I should, again, point out how this fic is AU. So, for those of you who were wondering, here's my reasoning behind making this fic AU: I try to stay relatively close to the episodes, yes, but know that, when it becomes in my best interest, I will diverge from what's happened. Because I'm not big on rewriting something we can see every Tuesday, you nahmsayin?_

_NOW! Without any further ado... The next chapter!_

_PLEASE REVIEW! And enjoy!_

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"… So I say to him, 'I don't know who you think you're talking to, but I am Noah. Fucking. Puckerman. So back the fuck off, bitch.'" Puck's arms twitched as he flexed, accentuating his story in a grotesque example of uber-masculinity. He'd been going on about Juvie for the last fifteen minutes as Santana sat in the passenger seat of his truck, examining her nail beds and nodding over zealously when it seemed apparent that she was expected to. But after his final story, the girl had decided enough was enough.

"Look," her tone was blunt and easy to read as she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed. "Are we gonna make out, or do I really have to listen to another one of your stories about how you figured out if you pitched or received in Juvie? Because Mrs. Pierce is making meatloaf." Santana had never even eaten meatloaf, but over the last ten minutes at least, all she could think about was whether or not Brittany would set her a place at the table. Apparently, her words had been enough to inspire something in Puck, because the next thing she knew, they were crawling awkwardly into the back seat, his thick arms wrapped around her and fiddling with the zipper to her Cheerios uniform.

Laying back against the leather seats, she tugged down her spanks, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking her ankles together. No need for foreplay, she had homework to do. Her hand crept between their bodies, unfastening his pants expertly and tucking her hand beneath the waist band of his boxers. As she caressed him, he seemed to take the hint and moved his own hand to her inner thigh. His hands were rough and calloused, Not at all like Brittany's. For a moment, she had to part her lips from his, looking up at the roof of his car. She could not be thinking things like that, first because she never thought of somebody else when she was with someone. It's just not something she did., She didn't get attached to people like that. Most definitely not her best friend, secondly. She and Brittany were just friends who had certain benefits she didn't have with some people. Sex was not dating. It was one line that she was always sure to make explicitly clear.

Suddenly, puck leaned back. "You alright, babe?" she moved her gaze back to his face, shaking her head slightly. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He looked down at her hand and she realized she'd stopped moving. Obediently, she began stroking him once more, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him roughly, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth. She knew that every touch and caress he doled out was right and that many times before they had turned her on. The way he pressed down on her, his breath on her neck, all of it had once driven her mad. But something was just off today. It was almost obligatory.

Rolling over, she pressed him down against the leather interior. Her hair was wild, the pony tail long having been tugged out, and she smirked down at him, exposing him just enough. "Do you have… something?" she asked huskily, her breathing heavy and her voice low and raspy. He pointed to his glove box, and she reached over, opening it. There was nothing in there, aside from paperwork and a pack of Marlboros. "There's nothing here." She said plainly, sitting back as he sat up to look around. He searched his pockets, his back pack, his wallet, but the silver packet remained elusive. "I guess you haven't restocked since Juvie." Her tone was biting as she slid her spanks back on, smoothing her skirt over her thighs.

"Baby, please…" Puck began, and Santana rolled her eyes. "Help a guy out here." He gestured towards his groin, and she looked down at him. "Hmmm…" she smirked deviously. "Looks like you have a problem." His lips curled as well, and she leaned in close to him, taking his hand. Carefully, she balled his hand into a loose fist and leaned in close to his ear, pressing her lips briefly to the hollow of his neck before whispering. "It's a motion… sort of like… this." And with that, she began moving his fist up and down in mid air before scooting back and smiling seductively. "If it helps, you can think of me naked." With that, she grabbed her book bag and opened the door, slipping out of his truck and making her way to her cherry-red Dodge Charger, an "Early Christmas Gift" her father had gotten her after she'd walked in on him in heavy lip lock with his receptionist, Edward.

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The door bell chimed loudly, and Santana could hear Mrs. Pierce's voice echoing through the foyer before the door swung open. "Oh! Santana! Come on in!" Mrs. Pierce had a very high voice and assumed the louder one spoke, the happier they seemed to be. Apparently, she was really fucking happy. She was unnaturally thin, but not in a supermodel way, but in a way that screamed plastic surgery. Her hair was the same shade of blonde as Brittany's, but it was apparent that hers came from a bottle, because her roots were growing in gray. She had a pretty face, but if you looked too closely, you noticed the corners of her eyes looked tired, and how the corners of her smile pulled just a little too far to be natural. "Brittany's upstairs, dear! Go ahead and go on up!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Pierce." Santana smiled warmly, crossing into the house and heading up the stairs toward Brittany's room. None of the colors on the walls were exactly white, but there was hardly a distinguishable color to any of them. Aside, of course, from Brittany's room. The soft blue was a welcomed contrast to the variations of cream and ivory and eggshell and off-white of all the other walls. As she poked her head into the half-opened door, she rapped her knuckles against the doorframe. Her eyes immediately fell to the bed, where Brittany lay back against her pillows, her iPod resting on her abdomen and her hair splayed out across the white cushions beneath her head. Her legs seemed to drape over themselves, and Santana fell prey to them a moment, scanning them over slowly. With a toss of her head, she shook loose all the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded her mind. Apparently she hadn't only blue-balled Puck earlier, but herself too.

She strode into the room, her lips curling into her signature smirk as she approached the side of Brittany's bed. The blonde was engrossed in a magazine, clearly dead to the world. And that just wouldn't do. Plucking the Vogue from her hands, she closed it, looming over her expectantly.

"Oh, you're here." Brittany's tone was dreamy and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.-Santana couldn't help but melt a little, the bitchy exterior falling away a bit to expose a softer being, and a small chuckle passed her lips. "Don't sound so excited." Her tone was jesting, and she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, placing her palm on the other side of Brittany's petite waist and leaning over her. But Brittany's smile only faltered if anything, causing a moment's hesitation in the brunette. "You okay, Britt?"

The blonde sat up slightly, her iPod falling from her stomach to the soft bed beside her. "Your ponytail's down." She noted softly and Santana's hand lifted to her head, running through her loose brunette curls. She'd forgotten that Puck had pulled her ponytail out, and for some reason, she felt like it was incredibly incriminating. She looked down guiltily, her eyes falling to Brittany's legs running along where the hem of her Cheerios skirt brushed her thighs, trying hard not to let her mind wander towards lustful. "So Puck helped you digest then?"

Confusion flooded her mind a moment and Santana looked up at her friend, catching her sweet, blue irises with her own, chocolate ones. With a sigh of realization, she recalled what Brittany was referring. She'd been paying for that comment since she first made it. At first it had been endearing, Brittany would ask if they could pretend if she was a lizard, like it was some sort of code word for making out. But then Wheels came into the picture, and she sent her a very wordy text about "finding another rock". And now, this.

"Come on, Brit." Habitually, Santana's eyes rolled in her head before looking back to the blonde before her. Brittany was looking away from her, her arms crossed over her chest and a distinct pout on her face. Again, she softened instantly, trying to keep her bitchy in check. "Actually," she began, leaning forward slightly. "I haven't even eaten. I was thinking, if your mom was still making meat loaf, I could…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the last part of her statement to be assumed. Brittany looked back at her with a look she'd seen before, and never meant good things for her. She sat up, retracting her hand from her side and her face turning stony. "Or not." It was short and biting and she stood up, swooping her hair up into it's customary ponytail.

"I just… don't think my mom made enough for… you." Brittany's eyes were fixed upon her hands, which had fallen into her lap. It was a cop out and Santana knew it. She also knew she deserved it. Still, it stung. Standing, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs and picked up her bag. "Whatever." She called over her shoulder before walking down the stairs, listening as Brittany padded down after her.

When she reached the door, Santana was stopped by Mrs. Pierce's resounding voice echoing through to the foyer. "Oh! Are you leaving already? Don't you want to stay for dinner?" Santana bowed her head before turning to face the overly-happy blonde woman before her, her eyes lingering on Brittany, frozen halfway down the staircase. "Uh, no. I can't tonight Mrs. Pierce. Sorry." She held Brittany's gaze pointedly until finally, the blonde looked away and headed back to her room. Santana turned and opened the door, wishing her best friend's parents a good night and hurrying to her car before the ripping feeling in her chest overcame her.

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"Can I get a number three with large fries and a coke, an eight piece chicken nuggets, a chocolate milkshake and three cookies, please?" Santana's damp lashes still stuck to her cheeks as she blinked, guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. As she pulled up to the window, she pulled the bills from her wallet, handing them to the clerk without making eye contact, taking the bag from her almost greedily and driving away, the food like an incriminating passenger in the seat beside her.

She pulled into an empty parking space in the otherwise empty lot before reaching into the bag and pulling out the first thing her fingers could wrap around, peeling the wrapper back from the burger and biting into it almost savagely, closing her eyes tightly. She lifted her coke to her lips, taking a drink to urge the large amount of food down her throat before taking another massive bite, then another. She couldn't pinpoint when, but at some point between the end of the first and second "courses", tears began to spill down her cheeks. Soon, she was sobbing and gasping through mouthfuls of food, forcing each bite down.

No more than ten minutes later, the brown paper bag was empty and all that remained was a few sips of her Coke. She looked out at the dark, empty parking lot with bleary eyes, her chest rising and falling slowly before revving her engine to life again, moving down the street in a numb state, as if completely unaffected by anything. The lights in her and her mother's apartment were off, the only sign of life the flickering TV screen in the window. Her key fumbled in the lock and she opened the heavy door, her entire body feeling like lead. She strode calmly through the small apartment and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and locking it.

Her eyes befell the toilet and the sank to her knees beside it, propping one hand against the smooth, cold basin while lifting the other to her mouth. Her teeth dug into her knuckles slightly and her stomach lurched forward once, twice, and then everything came rushing forth. She hung her head low over the toilet, ridding herself of the burger, the fries, the guilt. Even after everything had gone, her stomach empty, her abdomen tensed and she coughed, spitting into the toilet. Her long fingers found the lever, pushing it down and flushing away her indiscretions.

She lifted herself on shaky legs, wiping at her mouth and turning the faucet to the sink on scalding hot. As she washed her hands, she looked up at her reflection, her eyes piercing through the hollow ones she saw before her. She broke the contact, splashing warm water over her face and turning the tap off, drying her face and shutting off the light before she could look at her reflection again, and moving to her bedroom. She slipped out of her uniform and tucked herself beneath the sheets, her entire body relazing into the cushion of the bed. Her every muscle relaxed, a sense of exhaustion flooding her. Her breathing slowed and she burried her face into her pillow, closing her eyes and drifting into shallow, dreamless sleep.

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_End of chapter two. _

_A little heavy, I am aware. I don't know when it dawned on me that Santana was bulimic, but I think it suits. And I hope I haven't offended any of you… Bulimia and other eating disorders are nothing to take lightly, and I don't feel I do. But I feel I am open and honest with the disorder. I don't want to apologize for what I've written, but if I didn't warn you properly or you were caught off guard and upset, I do apologize. _

_Anyways… I hope it meets all of your expectations!_

_On a different note, I'm thinking I could use what I think is called a Beta. I want someone who would be willing to read through what I've written and make sure it flows correctly and it flows well, because if I am anything, it's a bit of a choppy writer. Um, I guess if you are interested, send me a message or say so in a review and I will try to find someone! _

_Also, if I do find a Beta, then the chapters may come a bit slower, but I'll try to post them one every one or two days. Please don't get angry if it takes longer!_

_Okay, that's all I have to say._

_Hope it's tolerable! If not enjoyable! _

_Like I said before, reviews are appreciated, positive or negative. _

_Until next time ...! _


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